RLG4 - Waiting in Shadows
by 
Watson
|
Posted: Wednesday, April 7, 2004 Word Count: 433 |
Waiting in Shadows
Outside, the bone of the moon glows, but within, we lie, destroyed in the dark.
It was a line from one of Andre’s poems called Madness. Written so long ago, I’d almost forgotten it and yet now I realised he’d written it for us. He could always see ahead of himself, knew the havoc our love might bring.
I threw the poems into the fire. Watched for a long while as the flames devoured the words of his soul until only charred remnants remained in the grate. I didn’t need them anymore. Knew them all by heart. Knew his voice still lived on inside of me.
I heard the dull ticking of the mantle clock. But time meant nothing. It came and went. Day merged into day and night merged into night. It all meant nothing.
I threw more papers onto the fire, then shuddering, I sank back into the armchair, waiting for the warmth to still my shaking limbs, to ease the trepidation. Waiting for the candle-lit room to draw me inside and hold me safe like warm cupped hands.
Slowly my eyes moved. I took in the familiar oak beamed ceiling, the whitewashed walls, the faded watercolour paintings in their simple frames, the photographs upon the mantle, the dusty sideboard. I smelled anew the decay and neglect and once more my heart ran a little faster.
Never let me go.
He had promised.
Close by a door opened. My ears picked up the quiet but definite sound of footfall in the hallway. My heart juddered as I felt the sudden drop in temperature. And although I knew I should be ready when the cool breeze brushed my skin, I was not, a part of me still afraid. And I began to shiver, my whole body rippling with a mixture of fear and expectation.
I heard the sigh leave my lips. ‘Andre?’
Finally he had come for me. I sensed, rather than saw his eyes upon me. Knew they would be filled with warm tears.
I felt him enter the room, come forward and kiss me on the forehead; his lips soft and warm. I held his face in my hands. His fingers touched mine. For a long while we didn’t move. Then the pain began to grow, slowly in my chest.
‘I’m ready,’ I told him. I had had my fill of loneliness, waiting in shadows.
He pulled me gently to my feet, my legs no longer feeling old and unsteady. I felt the heaviness of life ebbing away, a moment of calm. Then we were whole again.
Outside, the bone of the moon glows, but within, we lie, destroyed in the dark.
It was a line from one of Andre’s poems called Madness. Written so long ago, I’d almost forgotten it and yet now I realised he’d written it for us. He could always see ahead of himself, knew the havoc our love might bring.
I threw the poems into the fire. Watched for a long while as the flames devoured the words of his soul until only charred remnants remained in the grate. I didn’t need them anymore. Knew them all by heart. Knew his voice still lived on inside of me.
I heard the dull ticking of the mantle clock. But time meant nothing. It came and went. Day merged into day and night merged into night. It all meant nothing.
I threw more papers onto the fire, then shuddering, I sank back into the armchair, waiting for the warmth to still my shaking limbs, to ease the trepidation. Waiting for the candle-lit room to draw me inside and hold me safe like warm cupped hands.
Slowly my eyes moved. I took in the familiar oak beamed ceiling, the whitewashed walls, the faded watercolour paintings in their simple frames, the photographs upon the mantle, the dusty sideboard. I smelled anew the decay and neglect and once more my heart ran a little faster.
Never let me go.
He had promised.
Close by a door opened. My ears picked up the quiet but definite sound of footfall in the hallway. My heart juddered as I felt the sudden drop in temperature. And although I knew I should be ready when the cool breeze brushed my skin, I was not, a part of me still afraid. And I began to shiver, my whole body rippling with a mixture of fear and expectation.
I heard the sigh leave my lips. ‘Andre?’
Finally he had come for me. I sensed, rather than saw his eyes upon me. Knew they would be filled with warm tears.
I felt him enter the room, come forward and kiss me on the forehead; his lips soft and warm. I held his face in my hands. His fingers touched mine. For a long while we didn’t move. Then the pain began to grow, slowly in my chest.
‘I’m ready,’ I told him. I had had my fill of loneliness, waiting in shadows.
He pulled me gently to my feet, my legs no longer feeling old and unsteady. I felt the heaviness of life ebbing away, a moment of calm. Then we were whole again.